


Never Long, Always Meaningful

by NeonViolet



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonViolet/pseuds/NeonViolet
Summary: Isak is 27 years old and working as a neuro-surgeon.He's over-worked, over-tired, and over-spent.One night, a new patient with a devastating accident changes everything.





	Never Long, Always Meaningful

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first **T** rated fic. _Gasp!_
> 
> I'm working on my WIP's but needed something to get me out of my Emmy universe. (If you haven't read my contribution to the Skam Big Bang, you can read "Emmy" [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978921/chapters/42467828).)
> 
> This was just a quick something I put together in about two sittings.  
> 🖤

_**Day 1** _

 

Isak shoves the swinging door of the scrub room with his shoulder, still drying his hands and arms as he exits and makes his way down the hall to the oncall room in the corner that everyone avoids because it’s too out of the way to be convenient. He let’s the heavy door shut behind him, his weight falling against it as he tips his head back with a deep exhale.

 

It was his eighth day at the hospital this week without a day off. He was exhausted from the labor of it all - but also from the mental toll it was taking. Today, of all days, he needed a win. A decent outcome. Some good news. But instead he received an aneurysm that couldn’t be clipped completely, and a 30 year old young woman with an unknown future.

 

He forces a few more deep inhales and exhales out of his body, turns around to open the door, and makes his way back down the hall towards the private waiting room.

 

-

 

The man was shaking, trembling. Vibrations of every intensity coursing through his body as he took in the news Isak delivered.

 

_The bleeding has slowed, but hasn’t stopped._

 

_Coma._

 

_We aren’t hopeful._

 

The words taste like vinegar on his tongue, forcing them out with the practiced ease that can only come from a grueling surgical internship and residency that forces emotional compartmentalization. He grabs the tissues and hands a few to the man in front of him, sitting in the plush chair next to him, squeezing his shoulder and rubbing his back in the only form of comfort he can offer. It’s several long minutes before the sobs die down and the man looks up at Isak; eyes blood rimmed and swollen, pale features and creased forehead. Mental fatigue painted all over him.

 

“Can I see her?” His voice full of gravel and heavy with emotion as he holds Isak’s gaze with his question.

 

“Yeah. Of course.” It’s whispered, so as not to disturb the fragile state surrounding them as both men stand up slowly, gathering their balance from the unsteadiness of the moment. Isak leads them out, stopping at room **21A** , grabbing the chart labeled _Bech Næsheim, Sonja_ as he walks inside.

 

-

 

_**Day 17** _

 

“How are we feeling today Sonja?” Isak whispers the words to his patient, unable to respond back but a habit he’s grown into and doesn’t see himself pulling out of. The small amount of hope he allows himself in this situation.

 

“Still breathing though. He’ll be happy.” He hums to himself absently, only a little worry coloring his tone as he continues taking her vitals. “That’s good. You’re doing good.”

 

There’s a disruption at the door, before a deep and somewhat distracted voice breaks the quiet.

 

“I brought you breakfast.” The words are spoken behind him, startling Isak only slightly as he pulls the stethoscope from his ears and wraps it around his neck, turning around to see Even walking into the room, arms full of the normal clutter that’s become synonymous with him over the last few weeks.

 

“I finally got tired of hearing you complain about how you constantly forget to eat breakfast every morning only to hate the options here, so—“ He unloads his leather bag from around him, shedding one of the three layers he’s wearing before brandishing a small brown paper bag in front of Isak - complete with scattered grease splotches staining the outside. “I don’t know how you feel about bacon, but it’s from the deli by my house and I know firsthand it’s the best tasting thing in all of Oslo.” He shrugs boyishly before pulling out his laptop and setting up his makeshift office, having worked from his wife’s bedside everyday since she arrived.

 

Isak mutters a _thanks_ , heading to the small sink to wash his hands before walking back to the hospital bed and entering in a few notes on the medical cart.

 

“Any changes today?” It’s mumbled from Even’s mouth as he speaks into the coffee cup he’s drinking from.

 

“No changes today.”

 

He watches Even nod thoughtfully, taking a few more swallows from his cup before opening his laptop.

 

Isak knows that for Even, no news is good news right now. For Isak, however, no news still isn’t great news. But this has been their dance for these weeks; Even asking if there’s been any change, Isak confirming that there hasn’t and then Even countering with—

 

“But she’s breathing.”

 

“Yes. She’s breathing.” The one answer Isak can deliver with a smile.

 

He finishes entering in his notes, turning around to see Even looking at him, a hopeful expression that causes a pinch in Isak’s chest as well as an inappropriate flutter. The silence between them stretches - not too long, but long enough to be meaningful.

 

“Can you sit for a few minutes?” He lifts up his own breakfast sandwich in gesture.

 

Isak looks at his watch. It’s an arbitrary move, Sonja is his last stop on his morning rounds and he has nowhere urgent to be for the next few minutes, but he feels like the facade of checking the time is necessary. Maybe not for Even, but definitely for himself.

 

_Because while the silence between them wasn’t always long - it was always meaningful._

 

“Yeah.” He grabs the paper bag and settles in the recliner on the opposite side of the bed. “I can sit for a few minutes.”

 

-

 

_**Day 48** _

 

January in Norway is unforgiving. Shortened days and lengthened nights with winds picking up and lowering the temperature to drastic degrees. It’s a week after the new year and the streets have lost their magic, stringed lights and holiday decorations are gone and replaced with a grey fog that never seems to lift and dirty snow piling on the curbs.

 

Isak continues to walk, avoiding the rush hour chaos of pedestrians on the trams and busses and opting to walk home despite the frigid air around him and the piss poor attitude he can’t seem to shrug from his shoulders. It had been another long day at the hospital - a necessary evil when you choose neurology as a specialty. 27 years old with an early degree and slight baby face means he still has everything to prove. Always needing to work the extra hours and legitimize himself in exhausting ways to gain the respect of his older colleagues whom he’s ahead of.

 

So he’s tired and hungry and could use a hot shower, maybe alleviate the sullen exterior he’s taken on - wash some of it away. But what it won’t do is make Even appear today. And as incongruous and ill-timed as these feelings are, it doesn't make them any less true or real. And like today when Even wasn’t at the hospital, it caused an ache deep within Isak.

 

Because Isak likes Even.

 

Isak has feelings for Even.

 

Isak wanted to be with his comatose patient’s husband.

 

It was beyond bad form and he knows it - but it doesn’t stop his heart from beating his name anyway. A constant rhythm of _Even, Even, Even_ in his chest.

 

“Isak?”

 

The beat stops and he forces his face into the wind at the sound of that voice in front of him. Even is standing bundled in layers, pleasant surprise in his expression as he walks towards Isak. They stand in front of each other, exchanging an awkward side hug and sitting in the quiet for a few moments.

 

_Because the silence wasn’t always long, but it was always meaningful._

 

“I didn’t see you today.” It was pushed from his lips unceremoniously, an almost desperate accusation. His brain telling his heart it wasn’t the appropriate thing to say, and his heart running on its own will regardless.

 

Even just looks at him, searching his face for answers to unasked questions before rearranging the gloves on his hands.

 

“I was about to get dinner.” Something solid in his gaze. “Join me?”

 

The sudden subject change is jarring, but only for a moment. Isak nods, or maybe he answers with a verbal yes - he can’t remember. All he knows is he’s following Even into a small restaurant on the corner and sitting into the small booth by the big window, ordering a wine with a glass of water and listening as Even does the same. Neither man opening up the menu to peruse the entrees, and neither man looking away from the other.

 

“Any changes today?”

 

He shakes his head. “No changes.”

 

“But she’s still breathing?”

 

“Yes.” A shaky breath and then a nod. “She’s breathing.”

 

-

 

“Can I walk you home?” Even’s wrapping his scarf around his neck a final time as they stand at the exit of the restaurant.

 

“It’s ok. I’m only a few blocks that way.” He gestures behind him, violent shiver running down his spine as the wind picks up. Even laughing at the sight and another shiver making its way through Isak anyway.

 

“It’s on my way. Come on.”

 

So he does.

 

It’s a comforting walk, Even commenting on everything and nothing. Isak enthralled by the monotony of it all and uncertain how to make himself not enjoy how absolutely mundane it all is.

 

They arrive at his building faster than he anticipated. Faster than he wanted. But the lazy smile is wiped from his mouth when he watches Even’s mood change. There’s a tension in his face that removes the comfort that had just been surrounding them, and Isak has every intention to rub it away. Soothe him with his words or his hands or both. Knowing that he can’t doesn’t make the urge any less prevalent.

 

“I needed to cry today.”  

 

The segue is apropos of nothing and Isak has a hard time keeping up, feels like he’s dragging his limbs through mud as he listens. He doesn’t say anything, and Even continues.

 

“That’s why I wasn’t around. I just needed to cry, and I couldn’t do it there in front of her. Something about it felt final and I just— I couldn’t be at the hospital today. I couldn’t have one thing feeling like an end only to watch her and not know if another ending was on the horizon too.”

 

He shrugs as the last words leave his líps. Like he’s explaining away something he did wrong. But it was a plea as well, that much Isak could decipher. A plea to understand and a plea for comfort.

 

“Even,” he speaks the name hushed and reverently. It tastes warm coming from his lips. “You’ve been at that hospital everyday for a month and a half - even when you should be home. No one’s upset that you took a break. Not even to cry alone”

 

“You’re not?”

 

And the wording is funny. It’s too specific, but Isak answers anyway.

 

“No, I’m not.” The truth is he had been, but it’s because he missed Even - not because he felt he was owed his presence and resented his choice to have an absence.

 

Even holds his eyes, uncertainty turning to assuredness turning to resignation turning to confidence.

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok.”

 

-

 

_**Day 57** _

 

“Even, what is this?”

 

He pulls out the plastic cup of yogurt and fruit, eyeing it skeptically before taking in the bundled man in front of him.

 

“It’s a yogurt parfait.” He doesn’t stop setting up his makeshift office. Unloading his laptop and pulling out a foiled wrapped breakfast sandwich that looks suspiciously like the one Isak is used to receiving every morning.

 

“Yes Even, I can see that.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide his irritation. “But why?”

 

“As it turns out, that much bacon every day isn’t good for you.” He unwraps his own sandwich slowly. “Not heart healthy or something.”

 

Isak stares between his yogurt and Even, still not grasping the reason for the change in his morning menu.

 

“Then why are _you_ eating it?”

 

“I’m not a doctor setting double standards.” Even takes a bite, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he chews happily and sends a cheeky smile at Isak.

 

Isak delivers a look he hopes communicates that he could kill Even with his bare hands if he wanted too, but is only met with mirth overflowing from blue eyes. He lifts the lid off of his breakfast, digging his spoon in and taking his first bite, making sure to throw his middle finger up as he does.

 

The laughter that follows is melodious and warm and almost enough to make yogurt and granola taste better than bacon.

 

Almost.

 

-

 

_**Day 69** _

 

“He’s gonna be devastated.”

 

Isak looks down at his patient, checking her IV site line and jotting down the last of his notes as he continues to speak to her.

 

“He’ll be glad you’re breathing, though.” He thinks for a moment, head lifted from the computer screen as he comes to his conclusion. “ _I’m_ glad you’re breathing. But it’s been over two months Sonja, I need you to give me more.” He ignores the sound of his own desperation. “ _He_ needs you to give me more.”

 

There’s no response, of course there isn’t. Just the sound of machines whirring in tandem to his unanswered and shameless whispers.

 

“I won’t say I love him. I won’t. Because I don’t know him outside these walls. I don’t know anything other than the different sounds his laugh takes on or the way he picks at the skin on his bottom lip when he’s thinking. I only know the small things, like how hard he worked to start his own animation company up after a pretty intense manic episode where he thought he lost everything - thought he lost you. Or how he makes me feel every morning he comes in carrying too many bags and layers, looking like a sherpa.”  

 

He looks back at the computer and enters in a few more notes.

 

“So I won’t say I love him, because I barely know him. It would be crazy to say anyways.” He shakes his head, hearing the denial in his own words but not ready to give it full acknowledgement yet.

 

“But— I do care about him, Sonja, and he cares about you so—“ he lets out the breath he’d been holding. “So _we_ just need you to give us something. Ok?”

 

He looks down at her now, like his speech might have stirred something within her, causing her eyes to flutter or fingers to move. Instead, he sees her face remain still and unmoving. He closes out of her digital file, reaching over in resignation and giving her hand a light squeeze.

 

“It’s ok if you can’t though. It’s ok.”

 

-

 

_**Day 70** _

 

“But there’s still a chance she might wake up, right? There’s still a chance?”

 

Even’s words start off fraught and build in strength by the end. Likely trying to convince himself of the outcome he is looking for and not the one that he is being presented with.

 

They’re both standing, one on each side of the hospital bed as Isak delivers the latest prognosis.

 

“In Sonja’s case, the chances of her waking up now are very low.”

 

This doesn’t get any easier - telling family that their loved ones don’t have a life ahead of them. He can hear the detached voice coming from his mouth, and he hates it. It’s Even, after all. Some emotion is allowed. But as he looks up at the tall man in front of him that he’s come to care for so deeply - _too_ deeply - the last few months, he also knows how important it is to give him the facts, as cold as they may seem.

 

“But she might _still_ wake up.” The words aren’t spoken to Isak. Even is looking down at Sonja, tears pouring from his face and chin, and onto her arm.

 

“Even—“

 

“Can you just go?” His voice is harder, words almost spit out as he keeps his eyes on Sonja. It’s painful to hear. It’s painful to watch. “We don’t want you here. Please leave!”

 

He stands there a moment, unable to ignore the use of the word _we_ and struck by the harshness delivered to him, knowing he has no right to be hurt but still trying to get his heart to catch up with his brain. It’s always a futile attempt.

 

The silence stretches.

 

 _And while the silence is never long, it’s always meaningful_.

 

“Of course” he finally says, grabbing her chart and making his exit.

 

He stops at the door, looks over with one last glance, pushing himself out before he starts to feel too much again.

 

-

 

_**Day 73** _

 

Isak loves the contrasting world of neurology. There’s an intensity to treating the brain, usually a race against the clock in order to be successful. It’s a rush and a high that most people in his field chase with a frenzied fervor - and Isak is no different. But what he loves even more, is the calm that comes with all of that. The brain needs quiet and rest to heal. No stimulation or excitement. Which is why the peace and stillness of the neurology floor is the respite he never knew he needed until choosing his specialty. Inside the operating room there is laser focus and steady, but rapid fire, movements and decisions being made. On the wing itself are rooms full of unyielding quiet, allowing the body to do what it must internally, to rebuild itself fully.

 

So when he’s at the nurses station catching up on documentation, he basks in the solitude that the floor provides, while also enjoying the passing, intentionally hushed, conversations between other staff and personnel. It’s also why the sudden appearance of a brown paper bag with grease stains dropping on the desk in front of him is startling enough for him to lose his breath momentarily.

 

He looks up to see Even shove his hands into his jacket pockets, rocking forward on the balls of his feet and biting his lip while he takes in Isak’s reaction.

 

“It’s an apology breakfast.”

 

“It’s 14:30 though.” Isak points at the clock behind him to prove his point.

 

Even relaxes a little. “There’s no set time to eat bacon, Isak.”

 

“There’s also no reason you owe me an apology, but I think you know that already.”

 

The conversation takes a turn to being intense and honest, but it feels necessary.

 

Even stops rocking forward, blinks a few times at the abrupt change, then answers.

 

“I do know that.”

 

“You were just feeling. You’re allowed to feel.”

 

Even’s eyebrows raise a little at the reference to his emotional breakdown a few days ago. A boyish expression of defeat starts in his forehead, makes its way down his cheeks and lips, trailing on his neck and shoulders, which tense up and then relax, before he says, “Then tell me why I feel like I _need_ to apologize to you.”

 

Isak looks down at the chart he has open, wiggling the pen between his fingers nervously as he decides on his answer, making sure to meet Even’s eyes as he does.

 

“Probably for the same reason that I wish you wouldn’t.”

 

It’s a brave response. It’s a risky response. And he can see all of it dawn on Even as well. His mouth opens and closes several times with no words following before finally relaxing again, whichever conclusion he has come to seemingly adequate for now.

 

“She still breathing?” he asks instead.

 

“Yes. She’s still breathing.”

 

-

 

_**Day 80** _

 

**PATIENT**

**Name** : Bech Naesheim, Sonja

 **Gender** : Female

 **Birthdate** : May 25, 1997

 

EMERGENCY CONTACT

 **Name** : Bech Naesheim, Even

 **Relationship** : Spouse

 **Gender** : Male

 **Birthdate** : February 12, 1997

 

-

 

_**Day 84** _

 

He just has his coat left to put on. That’s it, and then he can leave for the evening. But he takes his time in the locker room anyway, slowly placing one arm in a sleeve and then the next. It’s ridiculous, really. He can leave and go home and no one will be the wiser. He can back out on his plans and literally no one else is affected since he’s not spoken them out loud to anyone else.

 

He pulls the coat over his shoulders with a grunt, knowing he’s going to go through with it anyway, and takes the elevator up to neurology instead of down to the exit.

 

Even is packing up, stuffing his laptop away and into his bag with his back to Isak when he walks into Sonja’s room. He clears his throat so as not to startle, and warms at the pleasant look of surprise on Even’s face when he turns to see him.

 

He pulls on his first sweater as he speaks.

 

“I thought you’d gone home for the day already.”

 

Isak takes a couple steps into the room.

 

“I had some last minute patients to check on. Thought I’d stop by real quick.”

 

_Lie._

 

Even hums thoughtfully, wrapping his scarf around his neck twice before reaching for his second sweater. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps adding on layers as he watches Isak, waiting for him to leave or elaborate - neither of which Isak is really keen on doing, but bites the bullet and goes ahead anyways.

 

“Actually, I have an extra ticket to the ametuer short film fesltival that the university is putting on. It’s supposed to be really swanky. The students are serving wine and dinner while you sit in oversized recliners and watch the films.” He fidgets with the buttons on his coat. “An old patient of mine is on the committee and gave me tickets - thought maybe you’d want to come.”

 

Even stops mid way with one arm in the sleeve of his parka, a comical frozen version of himself staring at Isak before it all eases away with a breathy laugh. He shoves his last arm in, tugging a hat on as his last accessory for the night.

 

“You’re such a bad liar, Isak.”

 

He’s smiling, so he can’t actually be mad, but Isak feels indignant anyways.

 

“I’m not, though. He _is_ on the committee—”

 

He’s interrupted before he can finish.

 

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

 

It’s Isak’s turn to freeze, feeling caught out.

 

“Sonja’s chart.”

 

Even nods in realization, but amusement stays on his face.

 

“Is it a date?”

 

“What? No… I, uh—”

 

“I only ask because I didn’t dress for a date.” He gestures at his hobo chic attire.

 

Isak exhales, relaxing as much as he can.

 

“It’s not a date.”

 

-

 

“Isak, are you planning on staying in your coat all night?”

 

Even is sitting next to him in their double leather recliner, sipping on the glass of wine that was just delivered to them by an over eager student in a white button up and wrinkled black slacks.

 

Isak is hot, bordering on sweating at this point, and honestly if Even had just minded his own business he would have gladly suffered through the rest of the evening just like this. But it’s the second time Even’s brought it up since they arrived and there’s no sign he’s going to let up on the subject now. Especially since Isak has no real excuse as to why he’s choosing to stay bundled up in a heated auditorium turned cinema.

 

He stands up begrudgingly, slowly unbuttoning his coat and peeling it off with intentional movements. He walks over to the coat check counter at the door and waits for his redeeming ticket before making his way back to their seats, keeping his eyes anywhere except on Even when he returns.

 

He lifts the glass of cabernet sauvignon, taking one tentative sip before following it with two desperate gulps.

 

“Isak.”

 

He ignores Even next to him, opting instead to try the plate of truffle fries that had been delivered while he stepped away.

 

“Isak.”

 

He grunts in answer. It will have to do.

 

“Isak, is this a date?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you look—” 

 

“It’s laundry day." He interrupts Even, watching as he takes in the v-neck sweater and navy blue slacks Isak had paired with leather oxfords. "I had nothing else to wear, so I grabbed this. That’s all.”

 

He shoves another fry in his mouth, ready for their meal to come and the first film to start, forcing them into quiet for a couple of hours.

 

“Ok, but—” Even shifts closer to Isak, so his words are directed in his ear. And if Isak thought he was hot before - it certainly doesn’t compare to the added warmth of Even’s breath on his neck and face when he says, “You look really hot dressed up in your laundry day clothes.”

 

The charcoal colored cashmere sweater he put on specifically for tonight suddenly feels tight, and he nods in thanks before reaching for his wine and finishing it off.

 

The charge between them settles eventually, making small talk about their day as they eat their meal and Isak fills him in on the gossip surrounding the hospital staff Even’s come to know so well the last few months.

 

The lights dim, signalling the start of the first film, and Isak settles into the seat, Even pushing down on the button that lifts their legs as it reclines backwards automatically.

 

A few opening credits begin to roll when he feels Even’s hand find his, pressing his palm to the flat of Isak’s before slowly intertwining their fingers.

 

Isak doesn’t move, doesn’t respond at first. Everything within him wanting exactly this, but also fighting against any enjoyment he may find in it.

 

“And for the record,” Even’s leaned into his side, breath washing over his face and neck again in a way that Isak already knows he’s addicted to. “I would really like for it to be a date.”

 

The film begins, a child appearing on the screen as they push themselves on a swing. Legs pumping back and forth as they sore higher. Camera panning into the sky. Isak relaxes and rests his head on Even’s when he feels the man place his own on his shoulder.

 

-

 

_**Day 113** _

 

 **Google Search :** What do you get for a one month anniversary that isn’t really a one month anniversary?

 

 **Google Search :** How do i find out if the guy i’m dating is actually in fact my boyfriend, without asking him?

 

 **Google Search :** Is it considered dating someone if they still haven’t kissed you?

 

 **Google Search :** How much of an inappropriate asshole am I for falling in love with my patients husband while she’s in a coma and he still spends everyday with her?

 

_Close out of app._

 

_Open Uber Eats._

 

-

 

_**Day 115** _

 

_“Are you busy tonight?”_

 

_“No.”_

 

_“Do you want to come over?”_

 

That’s how it started out. A simple question with not so simple feelings behind it. They had been at the nurses station - Isak finishing up documentation and Even standing around keeping him company and making small talk with some of the other staff. Isak had been brave for a brief moment when he asked, and Even didn’t hesitate with his response.

 

It had been a month since Even’s birthday, and while they had gone on a few more _“dates”_ since then, most of their time together had been contained in that hospital. And Isak, he wanted more.

 

He still felt restricted and awkward even though everything about Even made him feel liberated. It didn’t make sense, but it was his reality nonetheless. He wanted - _needed_ \- Even in a neutral space. Not in the hospital where they met under the most distraught and complicated of circumstances. And not in public spaces where society still reigned supreme and one had to act on the guidelines she set forth. So he brought him home. To his apartment, where they could both be two men in love who still hadn’t spoken those words, but knew it just the same.

 

He had nothing planned for the evening, just knew he wanted Even in his home, wanted Even to _be_ his home, but didn’t feel he had the right to say those words.

 

They both laughed when Isak used the wrong key twice to open his front door. They smiled at each other with brazen confidence as they shed their layers in the hall. Isak scoffed when Even took the offered beer from him but refused to allow him to cook anything, citing his atrocious diet habits as reason enough. Even dodged the scraps of vegetables Isak threw at him from across the kitchen as he chopped and stirred and prepped a meal for them. They hummed in appreciation as they ate straight from the pan with two forks as they stood in front of the stove. They feigned shock at the state of their wet clothes when they got into a small water fight over the dishes. And they quietly, and shyly, changed into something dry while they stood in front of each other in Isak’s bedroom. A sweet vulnerability that felt new.

 

And in another moment of bravery, Isak asked:

 

“Do you want to stay over?”

 

“Yes.”

 

-

 

It’s quiet now. Much quieter than it had been the last hour, when gasps and moans filled the room. Slick skin slipping against each other and cries of desperation mixed with profanities bounced off the walls. The smell of sweat and sex still permeated the air, but a window had been cracked and was filtering it all out as they laid in bed, tangled in any way they could be. Needing as much contact as they could summon against the other.

 

It was still, now. A solitude he’d known existed but couldn’t tap into with Even until tonight.

 

And like so many times before - it made him brave enough to whisper heavy words.

 

“I love you, but I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

 

Even doesnt stop the tracing on his back, just slows it down to a more relaxing pace as he responds.

 

“I love you, and it doesn’t matter if I’m supposed to or not. The fact that I do, tells me that this is how it is, and I either accept it or deny it. And in case it’s not clear - i’ve accepted it.” He puntuates his words with a solid kiss to the top of Isaks head.

 

Isak tosses that in his head a few times. Back and forth as he thinks of what all that means. If fate is something Even is referring to, or if it’s just the freedom of allowing whatever is going to happen, happen.

 

In the end though, it doesn’t seem to matter, but there’s still a tugging in his thoughts that’s pulling down more and more, not allowing him to give his attention elsewhere until he finally calls it out.

 

“But she’s still around.” He speaks the words into Even’s skin, feeling the moisture spread as he does. “She doesn’t get a say. It feels wrong. It— it feels like betrayal.” He presses further into Even, a contrast to his next words: “I hate the way it makes me feel.”

 

Even’s movements stutter, his chest stops rising for a moment, and it feels as if the breeze from outside stills as well.

 

_Because while the silence is never long, it’s always meaningful._

 

“A week before her accident I found _Declaration of Separation_ papers in her night stand.” The air crackles at his words. “I confronted her about it, and all it did was bring to light how very _not_ in love we were anymore. She was - _is_ \- still my best friend, and I will never stop loving her. I couldn’t. It’s an impossibility in this world. But—” Isak can hear the soft smack of his lips as he licks them in thought. “But we hadn’t been _in_ love in a very long time.”

 

His fingers pick up where they left off, tracing nonsense words and letters on the skin of Isak’s back as he speaks. The deep timbre of his voice doing just as much to sooth as his hands are.

 

“And it’s a scary thought, knowing that you could just fall out of love with someone you vowed to spend your life with. Someone who you were enamored with for years. It was scary for me because at the time, I still believed in things like fate and one true love. But what I learned, and what Sonja just always knew, was how very limiting that way of thinking was. How it keeps you from ever experiencing life fully and wholly. And what Sonja taught me, was how absolutely grateful I am that I was able to have her for the time that I did.” His voice becomes thick with emotion as the realization of the double meaning of those words hits. “That even if she met someone new the next day, or I fell in love with a handsome doctor weeks later - that nothing would ever diminish the love we did have. And it was beautiful still.”

 

A searing tear lands on Isak’s nose, dropped from Even’s chin as he silently lets the physical manifestation of his emotions pour down his face. And Isak is in awe. He’s astonished at the strength in the man lying beneath him. He’s struck by the confidence and wisdom that pours out of him at only thirty years old. He’s moved by his words and how they touched places in his body he’d not realized had been isolated. And he’s swollen, utterly filled, with adoration and love for a man who can find it in him to love freely regardless of the adversities and heartaches he’s been thrown.

 

“By the way,” His words are clearer now, Isak can hear that the last tears have finished their job for now. “Sonja would have loved you too.”

 

Isak swallows. Feels the stinging behind his eyes and realizes that the tears only moved from one man to the other.

 

-

 

_**Day 120** _

 

“I know I told you that I wouldn’t say that I love him, but I’ve changed my mind now.”

 

Isak reaches down in the hospital bed and clings to her hand lightly. Quietly speaking his words but pushing all of his steadiness within them as well, when he says:

 

“I love him. Thank you for loving him too.”

 

-

 

_**Day 126** _

 

“I’m gonna need you to explain this to me again, Isak because right now you’re not making any sense.”

 

“You can’t kiss me in here. I don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

 

“But I literally just kissed you three minutes ago.”

 

“But that was outside the room. Now we’re inside the room.”

 

Even crosses his arms, brows furrowed together in confusion and, what Isak is guessing, irritation as well as he stays standing at the foot of the hospital bed staring at his boyfriend.

 

“So, kissing you outside the room is ok, but inside the room is against the rules?”

 

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

 

“Isak—“

 

“Jesus, Even!” He combs his hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck before he speaks. “Any way that I explain it is going to sound dumb, but,” He takes a breath. “This is Sonja’s space. And it’s my agreement with her. Kisses stay out of her room.”

 

The wrinkle in Even’s brow smoothes out, he looks at his wife as he speaks, drawing out each word slowly.

 

“You’re agreement with her?”

 

Isak doesn’t answer back. It’s rhetorical anyway.

 

Even looks to be having his own silent conversation with Sonja for a few moments before he abruptly walks out of the room and turns around to face Isak on the other side of the doorway, arms spread out and waiting.

 

Isak looks him up and down dubiously. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m waiting for my kisses. I am officially outside the room.” He spreads out his arms further, emphasizing his stance.

 

A grin takes over Isak’s face as he rolls his eyes and not so reluctantly makes his way out of the room. Even grabs for the back of his neck to pull him in, but Isak dodges his reach, pulling him to the side of the doorway.

 

“At least don’t do it within her line of sight.”

 

“I swear to god, Valtersen...”

 

The words disappear in a fit of laughter and a mess of wet kisses.

 

-

 

_**Day 138** _

 

The blank screen comes to life as the image of the EEG unfolds in front of him, confirming what he knew from earlier. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as the corners bite into his skin.

 

“Dammit, Sonja!”

 

-

 

Isak is in her room when Even walks in that morning, later than usual. He watches as Even senses the change as soon as he crosses the threshold, slowing his movements as he removes his bag quietly and looks between Isak and Sonja’s face.

 

“There’s been a change, hasn’t there?”

 

Isak nods. “There’s been a change.”

 

Even’s hands stop where they sit on his sweater, not yet removed.

 

“Is she still breathing?”

 

Isak blinks once.

 

“No Even. She’s not breathing on her own.”

 

-

 

He goes through the motions. Explains the effects of the stroke that she suffered over night. Explains the brutality of being brain dead, and how there is no recovery from this. He remarks on her choice to be an organ donor which is stated in her chart. He lays it all out there, as factual and plainly as he can. Not allowing emotions to sway his words or tone. The entire time Even is nodding, no sound escaping his mouth and his eyes not looking at anything in particular - just absent nods to everything Isak speaks.

 

“Even,” He moves closer to his boyfriend, attempting to gain his attention. “I need you to say something. I need you tell me you understand what I’m telling you.”

 

He turns around, looking Isak square on with an intense clarity that seems to be faltering.

 

“Sonja’s gone. The machine is breathing for her. You’re waiting for me to give you permission to shut the ventilator off. She was an organ donor. She will save someone else’s life.” He stops to take a breath. “Right? That’s everything?”

 

The words sit on Isak like the weight of a train, suffocating him in an inescapable way.

 

“Yes Even. That’s everything.”

 

-

 

Isak moves slowly but surely. Giving the room and the situation the reverence it deserves. His nurse stands off to the side, helpless as he moves forward with her job, actions he couldn’t bear to leave up to anyone else.

 

He shuts the sound off on the machines around him, not wanting to disrupt the stillness. Works around Even who’s sat on the edge of the bed, holding Sonja’s hand gingerly.

 

He reaches for the tape around her mouth, lifting the corner gently to peel it back and release the tube that’s breathing for her.

 

“Isak” Even’s hand is placed on his own, stopping the action. His voice is weak as he speaks. “In a few moments I’m going to be crying a lot, and I don’t know what words will come out of me, but it doesn’t mean—” his voice shakes, breaking under the emotion of it all. “It doesn’t mean—”

 

Isak places his hand over top of Even’s. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He waits a moment, waits for the small nod from Even before he continues removing the tube from Sonja’s mouth.

 

32 minutes is how long he sits in the corner of the room, watching Sonja’s chest slowly stop rising. 32 minutes before the monitor shows that she is no longer breathing on her own. 32 minutes before Isak says, “Time of death, 10:28.”

 

32 minutes before the hushed words Even had been whispering to Sonja turns to wails and sobs, echoing off the walls of the hospital and bleeding into the halls.

 

Isak does nothing to stop the burning tears that run down his face, staining his skin in their wake. Does nothing to calm the shaking of his shoulders as he watches the man he loves mourn the death of his wife.

 

He looks over at his nurse, her own face red and splotched from her own cries.

 

No one is immune to this.

 

No one.

 

-

 

_**Day 249** _

 

He wipes the floating shelf one more time, making sure to remove all dust and streaks from it, and rearranges the two frames on either side making certain they’re as symmetrical as possible. As perfect as possible.

 

He hears Even come in and he’s glad he had the foresight to remove the moving boxes from in front of the entryway, because he can still hear Even trip over his own feet as he makes his way into Isak’s apartment. _Their_ apartment.

 

He remains standing, looking at the shelf as it hangs above the credenza he inherited from his mother when she downsized from his childhood home to a smaller place outside the city centre. A rich green calathea sits potted in a white ceramic planter in the center.

 

_“You got a plant? Isak, do you know you need to water it to keep it alive?”_

 

_“I fucking know that, you ass. I think I can manage to keep a plant alive. I’m a fucking neurologist.”_

 

_“Sounds fake, but ok.”_

 

_“This one has to stay alive. It means New Beginnings.”_

 

_“I know you’re being sentimental, but I give the shelf life of that thing two weeks tops.”_

 

Even’s beside him now, the last item, and arguably the most precious, finally being moved into their new home together. He watches as his boyfriend places the ivory urn onto the shelf, arranging it a few times before he steps back. A single emerald stone sits above a gold plate with _Sonja Bech Naesheim_ delicately inscribed.

 

Both men stand there, hands blindly reaching for the other as they take in the enormity of the moment in front of them. With a final squeeze, Even interrupts the quiet.

 

“So listen, now that I live here officially, you’re going to have to get my breakfast sandwich from the corner deli now. It’s out of the way for me.”

 

“Even!”

 

“What?”

 

“We were having a moment.” He gestures towards the shelf in front of them.

 

Even just shrugs.

 

“Sonja would want me to have the bacon.”

 

“You’re unbelievable.”

 

_Because the silence is never long, but it’s always meaningful._

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know I live for your kudos and thoughts. You all have the loveliest things to say in the comments.
> 
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


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